


Recumbentibus

by ofshadowsandstars



Series: Recumbentibus [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:11:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6895015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofshadowsandstars/pseuds/ofshadowsandstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recumbentibus: A knockout punch, either verbal or physical.</p><p>“Nobody else sees it that way.”<br/>“You don’t know that.”</p><p>Steve and Wanda bond over the things they have in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recumbentibus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fishydwarrows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishydwarrows/gifts).



“I can’t tell if he was looking out for me or trying to control me.” Wanda was staring out the window at the Wakandan jungle, her eyes as tired and hollow as they had been since they rescued her.

“He believed in Stark’s cause. It might have been both.” Steve hadn’t gotten to know Vision well, but he knew the android had a soft spot for Wanda. Still, that hadn’t kept him from listening when Tony told him to not let Wanda leave the compound.

“He said he wanted the rest of the world to see me as he did.” That was something Steve could relate to. His fists clenched as he thought of the man sleeping in a cryo tube a few floors below them. “But you can’t make everyone think the same thing.”

“Vision just didn’t want you to be seen as a monster,” Steve finished. “No matter what we do, there are people that die as a result of our actions, but we keep going. I don’t like it - hell, I couldn’t go outside for weeks after the New York invasion. Everywhere I went there were memorials, evidence of destruction. The people were thankful to be alive, but even more were angry that they had reason to be thankful.” Wanda had finally turned to look at him, the faintest light of curiosity in her eyes. “I spent months wondering why he’d pulled me out of the river, what would have changed if he’d left me to drown. After Sokovia, there were times I wished he’d left me in the river.”

“More people would have died. We might not have won without you.”

Steve nodded, a small smile flashing across his lips. “Exactly. That’s why we have to keep going, Wanda. People died in New York, but we stopped Loki from taking the planet. People died in D.C., but millions of innocent people were saved. People died in Sokovia, but we kept Tony’s crazy robot from razing the planet. A handful of people died in Lagos - and I hate that they did as much as you do - but you kept Rumlow from exploding in a crowded marketplace when I couldn’t.” 

Wanda looked down at her hands, wrapping her cocoon of blankets tighter around her torso. “Nobody else sees it that way.”

“You don’t know that.” Steve crouched down next to her, careful to not come too close. She still didn’t like anyone touching her. “When someone asked me why I wanted to join the army, you know what I said?” Wanda shook her head. “I said I didn’t want to kill anybody. I still don’t. I don’t like bullies.”

“Ultron was definitely a bully,” Wanda agreed.

Steve chuckled. “Oh, he definitely was. You should’ve seen Loki. The whole thing was basically a temper tantrum.”

The ghost of a smile crossed Wanda’s lips. It was something. “When I was with Hydra,” she began hesitantly, “they kept mentioning someone. A-a Red Skull?” 

Steve nodded. “He was the leader of Hydra back in my day. And yes, he actually did have a red face. Bucky and I watched him peel off the regular face.” Wanda shuddered, making a disgusted face. “It was like taking off a mask, but definitely still creepy.”

“I’m sure it made quite the story.”

“Honestly, after I gave my report to the SSR, I didn’t want to think about it. And I don’t know how much of it Buck remembered to begin with, he was so tired. He remembered enough to regularly ask me if I was hiding something under my face, though.” Wanda giggled. It was barely a sound, but it was there. 

They lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the mist drift through the trees outside the window. Clint came in at one point, holding a mug of tea for Wanda that she accepted gratefully. They shared a brief, quiet conversation in Russian before he left, off to go brood somewhere high up. Steve had made the mistake to ask about his family once, and the fire in the archer’s eyes had been enough to keep him from asking again. There was something Clint wasn’t saying, but Steve didn’t push it. He had to trust that Clint would say something if there was anything seriously wrong, even though his gut said it was a bad idea.

How many times had Steve smiled and made a dry joke when someone had asked if he was okay? Lied to his ma, to Bucky, about how he was feeling so he wouldn’t have to be cooped up inside any longer? He’d spent two years pretending loneliness didn’t bother him, ignoring that the odd conversation with the nurse across the hall was the only non work-related (or so he thought) interaction he had with anybody. And then Nick Fury was shot, no one could be trusted, and Hydra was back, and they were planning to murder millions of innocents.

And they had his best friend.

Steve remembered the feeling of the slick railing of the train in his hand, the way the wind hit his face, the burning in his stomach and his throat as he watched the only person he’d ever needed tumble into a wintery abyss, hands reaching out towards him. He remembered the way he’d nearly beaten a hole in the floor of the train. He could still hear the the way the sound echoed around the car. If he was in a bad enough place, he remembered sitting in the bombed-out bar, knocking back whiskey that barely burned, debating smashing the bottle over his head when he was done. The hot tears that had gathered in his eyes as he talked to Peggy, placing the blame on himself.

But he couldn’t remember how the mask had felt. He’d reached up and pulled it from his attacker’s face, but any sensation it may have left in his memory was erased by what came next. A familiar nose and jawline under bright ice-blue eyes. Long hair and stubble trying to hide the man wearing them. A familiar voice saying his own name and not knowing what it meant.  _ Who the hell is Bucky? _

And as he had in Lagos, Captain America froze. He fell away, replaced by a scrawny kid watching his best friend smile and laugh, throwing an arm around his bony shoulders, and wondering  _ why would you want me?  _ That single-syllable proper noun. Five letters. A nickname exchanged between children. Perhaps the most powerful word in all the universe, as far as Steve Rogers was concerned. He had frozen on that street in D.C., and nearly died as a result. He had frozen in that marketplace in Lagos, and he was standing in the home of a the king of an isolated African country as a result.

“Would you have done this for Pietro?” he asked quietly, staring out the window. He felt his voice break, but couldn’t bring himself to care.

Wanda turned to look at him again, eyes filled with question this time. “If he was still here, we may not have ended up in this mess,” she said firmly. “But if someone were trying to do to him what they wanted to do to your man, then yes. This and more. The Avengers have become my family, and I’m grateful for that, but Pietro was my family first. He was my other half. If someone asked me to choose between my brother and the love of the world, I would choose him. He’s all the love I need.”

Steve smiled at her - really smiled - knowing that he had done the right thing. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

“I suppose so,” she agreed, taking a sip from her mug. “But I’m not nearly as angsty about it as you are.”

Steve laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was right. Totally, wholly, completely right. He had been an angsty, heartsick mess for years, and no one knew that like Wanda. She’d been in his head, rooted around in his fears, insecurities, and all that he had. If anyone knew the value of the man sleeping in the cryo tube, it was Wanda.

She gave him a smile over the top of her mug. It was small and fleeting, but a smile nonetheless. Taking another drink, Wanda turned back to the window, looking to the jungle. “Do you think we’ll ever get sick of this view?”

“I’m sure we will if we spend much more time staring at it like we are.” Steve was looking out, too. There was something about the jungle, the way the deep green radiated life, promised something good, that had captured them both.

“We should probably stop, then,” Wanda said absently, retreating further into her blanket cocoon on the couch.

Steve hummed in agreement. “We probably should.”

Neither of them moved for many, many hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'll write more. Maybe this will stay a one-shot. We'll see.


End file.
